POWER BACK

Chapter 5: Build Me Up Buttercup

Build Me Up Buttercup

Jack, September

It's the first day of my senior year, so I have a bunch of softball classes lined up. I've never been the strongest student, squeaking by with mostly Bs and Cs. I just don't have the attention span to focus. I've been considered a troublemaker since first grade because I can't seem to keep my mouth shut while the teacher's talking. All my report cards said the same thing: "Good attitude, but too social."

I haven't taken any advanced levels, either. I'm not exactly going to dazzle admissions committees with my GPA or extracurriculars. No student council or National Honors Society. Dad suggested Future Farmers of America, but I don't have any desire to bring home a clutch of baby chicks and try to keep them alive or raise calves or foals. I get enough of that at home. My only extracurricular activities are football and fishing.

So, anyway, that's how someone like me finds himself in floral design. I hear it's an easy A. The most interesting thing about the class so far is that it's mostly girls. I spot Bree when I walk in the door and slide into a seat at her table.

"What are you doing?" Bree asks when I plop down across from her.

I flash my most charming smile. "Sitting next to the prettiest girl in class."

She just gives me a look, tilting her head as if to say "whatever." She kinda knows how I roll, and that I tend to blow a lot of smoke. She is pretty, if you like that type. She's got this soft peachy skin, but she wears way too much bronzer or whatever you call it. And her giant bottle green eyes are slightly overdone, with super long lashes that look like falsies. Her boobs aren't fake though. They're real and proportioned to her small frame. She's got long legs, toned from all the tumbling she does in cheer. Her hair is a bleach blonde color, like a Barbie's. Every guy's wet dream, I guess. It's probably why Cash keeps her hanging on. She's like arm candy, his own personal trophy that he puts on display to prove what a winner he is.

"No, Chap, I mean why are you taking a flower arranging class?"

I shrug. "A man can never get too much culture, I find."

"Culture?" She laughs. "Yes, you are so cultured, Chappie."

I wink at her. Even though most guys drool all over her, I just don't see her like that. Some people think she's got a mean streak, but I know the truth. She's just hiding. She hides herself away really well. But we're friends, despite her tendency toward bitchiness and poor taste in men.

After class, we're walking to lunch together when she turns to me and says, "So I saw you with that lesbian at the party Friday night."

I glance down at her. "How do you know she's a lesbian? Did someone tell you that?"

"No, but I mean, look at her."

I nod. "It's possible, I guess. I don't know her all that well. Mostly, she just seems lonely. Seems like she could use a friend. I figure even lesbians need friends."

She shrugs. "Her sister's annoying."

"Emma?" I ask.

"Yeah, that little chipmunk who somehow made varsity as a sophomore."

"Is she good?"

She waggles her head side to side, looking up at the ceiling. "She's okay. Honestly, it's just because she's so tiny and acrobatic. We needed someone for the top of the pyramid."

"But you don't like her."

"No. And if she keeps flirting with Cash, she's going to wish she were never born."